Alex Rutherford - Brothers at War

Immediately he had enough men, Humayun charged back into the column a second time. A tall Gujarati cut at him with his curved sword, striking his breastplate and knocking Humayun back in the saddle.As Humayun struggled to control his rearing horse, the Gujarati rode at him again and, overeager to finish his victim off, aimed a swinging sword cut at Humayun’s head. Humayun reacted instinctively, ducking under the blade which hissed through the air just above his helmet. Before the Gujarati could recover, Humayun quickly thrust Alamgir deep into his abdomen. As the man dropped his sword and clutched the wound, Humayun coolly and deliberately struck at the back of his opponent’s neck, almost severing his head from his shoulders.

Glancing about him, Humayun saw through the billowing red dust that the Gujarati column was disintegrating. Some of the horsemen were galloping away in panic. Others in the middle of the column were, however, offering stouter resistance, defending the wagons which presumably contained the baggage and the cannon. Humayun knew that even if he captured them, he would not be able to carry off any cannon because they would slow down his force whose entire purpose was fast raiding. However, he could disable them. With the blood of battle thumping in his veins and yelling to his trumpeter to sound the order to follow him, Humayun immediately charged towards the baggage wagons.

Suddenly he heard the crack of a musket — then of another. Some of the Gujarati musketeers had got their weapons into operation and were firing from the cover of the baggage carts. One of the horses galloping ten yards from Humayun was hit, falling headfirst into the dust and catapulting its rider to the ground where he lay twitching a moment before the horses of his comrades following behind kicked and tossed him beneath their hooves, extinguishing any life lingering in his body.

Humayun knew that he must reach the wagons before the musketeers could reload. Waving Alamgir once more, he kicked his horse on and almost immediately was among the carts. He cut at one musketeer who was endeavouring with shaking hands to ram the metal ball down into the long barrel of his musket with a steel rod. Struck across his face, the man collapsed, dropping his weapon. The enemy had had no time to pull the wagons into any defensive formations and so Humayun’s men, who had quickly joined him, found it easy to surround and subdue the defenders of individual wagons. More of the Gujarati cavalry galloped away and the infantry and camp followers were also fleeing as fast as they could.

Resistance was at an end — at least for the present. However, Humayun knew that his force was considerably outnumbered and that when the Gujarati officers realised this, they would try to regroup and attack him. Therefore there was no time to waste. Humayun ordered a detachment of his cavalry to pursue the fugitives, cutting down as many as they could but riding no more than a couple of miles before returning to form a loose defensive perimeter. He gestured to other men to investigate the contents of the wagons. They went at it with a will, throwing off the heavy jute covers to reveal six medium-sized cannon and their powder and shot as well as bundles of new spears and five boxes of muskets.

‘We’ll take all the muskets. Empty the boxes. Strap bundles of the muskets to the saddles of some of the spare horses. Fill the cannon barrels with as many linen bags of powder as they will take and then run a trail of powder along the ground to those rocks over there. We’ll ignite the powder from behind them,’ Humayun said.

A quarter of an hour later the work was complete. Humayun despatched most of his men to a safe distance but remained with a few of his bodyguards to oversee the destruction. He gave the honour of firing the powder to a tall young Badakshani who, taking the flint box, struggled nervously to get a spark.When eventually he succeeded, the powder flame went sputtering across the ground. For a moment it seemed that it was going to die as it skirted a small rock but then it was away again. Almost immediately there was a massive bang followed closely by five others.The charges had exploded in each of the cannon barrels.

When the debris and dust had settled Humayun, still half deafened by the blast, could see that four of the barrels were split and peeled back, much like the skin of a banana. Another had disintegrated completely. The barrel of the sixth was cracked — just enough, Humayun thought, to render it useless. His men had soon returned and were searching the remaining baggage wagons for booty. One had found some silks, another was jamming his dagger into the lock of a casket, trying to force it in search of jewels.

Then Humayun saw one of the cavalrymen he had detached to form the perimeter defence galloping towards him. ‘The Gujaratis have regrouped, Majesty. They are forming up to attack, now they have seen how few we are.’

‘We must be away. Trumpeter, sound the retreat. We’ll go back up the escarpment. They won’t follow. They’ll know it would be death to give us the opportunity to attack them as they struggle up.’

Twenty minutes later, Humayun looked down from the sandstone escarpment on to the wreckage of the column around which the Gujaratis were now milling. His men had got away safely except for a foolish few who, mesmerised by the prospect of loot, had lingered too long investigating the contents of the baggage wagons. Among them, Humayun reflected sadly, had been the young Badakshani who had been brought down by an arrow in the back as he galloped too late for the escarpment. The bolt of embroidered pink silk tied to his saddle had unravelled, streaming out behind his riderless horse.

There it was — beyond the tall palm trees and the pale tangerine sand the glinting ocean reflecting the light of the midday sun with such an intensity that Humayun was forced to shield his eyes with his hand. After his successful raid on the enemy column he had despatched half his force of three thousand men back to the main body of his army, which was beginning its slow advance from Moghul territories towards the jungle fortress of Champnir with all the equipment and provisions required for a siege.

Humayun himself, together with a picked body of fifteen hundred horsemen, had penetrated even further into Gujarat, disrupting and defeating enemies wherever he found them. He had succeeded, he was sure, in leaving them uncertain and confused as to the main thrust of his army, just as he had planned. His quest for a caravan reported by captured Gujaratis to be carrying military supplies and trade goods towards the port of Cambay had brought him to the sea. Humayun was glad that it had. He called Jauhar to his side. ‘Pass the order that we will rest and refresh ourselves beneath the shade of the palms during the midday heat while our scouts search for the caravan. It cannot be far off now. Indeed, from what we learn Cambay itself should be no more than ten miles or so northwest up the coast. Give orders for pickets and sentries to be posted so that we cannot be taken by surprise.’

As Jauhar turned with the message, Humayun nudged his black horse forward through the palms, whose long, pointed, dark green leaves were rustling in the breeze coming off the sea, and on into the soft sand. Here, Humayun jumped down. Stopping only to discard his boots, he walked out into the sea, conscious that he was the first of his family ever to do so.The water slapping against his lower calves was refreshingly cool. Again shielding his eyes, he gazed out to the glittering, sparkling horizon. There he thought he could make out the shape of a ship — presumably one of those trading with Cambay.What kinds of goods were they carrying? What kind of people? What else lay beyond the horizon, beyond even Arabia and the holy cities? Was there new knowledge to be gleaned there? Were there new enemies or were there simply barren lands or an infinity of ocean?